


Binded by Blood

by guidetothegalaxy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-17 08:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14184765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guidetothegalaxy/pseuds/guidetothegalaxy
Summary: It took almost another year and thirty-seven bodies for the killer to finally be caught. Over the past decade the Black Blade, Harp Killer, Gentle Ripper or whatever the media wanted to call him had racked up a total of one hundred and one kills. After the man had finally been caught Lance refused to call him anything but his real name; Jack W. Kogane. Part of him felt that it made him seem more human; if that was even possible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm reading the series "I Hunt Killers" by Barry Lyga, and I pretty much just stole the idea for this... If you haven't read the series, I highly recommend!

Lance remembered the day like it was yesterday. Sure, it was nearly four years ago to the day, but it isn’t something you can just forget. Lance had been playing with his younger cousin when a sharp knock on the door startled them. His mom had told him to just ignore it, she was busy in the kitchen, but the knocking continued.  


When she finally opened the door three police officers stood on the front porch, bags under their eyes and frowns on their faces. 

That was the last normal day in their lives. His mother had sent them all upstairs while she talked with them, but all this siblings and cousins sat on the porch, listening. The news was enough to send the world crashing down around them. Lance’s uncle had been brutally murdered, leaving three children and a widow and no suspects. 

It took almost another year and thirty-seven bodies for the killer to finally be caught. Over the past decade the Black Blade, Harp Killer, Gentle Ripper or whatever the media wanted to call him had racked up a total of one hundred and one kills. After the man had finally been caught Lance refused to call him anything but his real name; Jack W Kogane. Part of him felt that it made him seem more human if that was even possible. 

He could already hear his mother’s soft sniffing. He didn’t have to see his father to know tears would be trickling down his face. His father had been really close to his brother when he was murdered. They lived together in one big house, all Lance’s cousins treated as siblings. 

The wound was four years old and yet it still felt fresh. When Jack had gotten arrested it ripped it open like a fresh band-aid. The press had swarmed the victim’s families looking for statements and trying to dig up their lives. His father had made it clear, ‘I hope that man rots in hell’ he had told the press, and Lance tended to agree. 

A quiet tap on the door dragged Lance from his thoughts, but he couldn’t chase the thought of the police standing on the porch that day. He shivered at the thought and grabbed his backpack, opening the door to reveal Pidge and Hunk standing on the doorstop. 

Lance gave a weak smile and closed the door, the quiet crying getting shut out. His two friends exchanged glances, everyone in town knew what happened this day three years ago, and they certainly weren’t the exception. 

“Hey, man, you okay?” Hunk asked softly, biting his lip nervously. 

Lance nodded his head, “Yeah, I just need a distraction,” he replied. 

His friends gave a weak smile, “We’ll gladly assist,” Pidge said, skipping ahead, trying to urge Lance away from the dark cloud that loomed over his house. 

Pidge stopped when she reached the edge of the block. The old brick house on the corner had been for sale for nearly a year. A moving truck was backed into the driveway, the movers slowly unloading furniture.

“I didn’t know someone bought it,” Pidge said with a frown. 

“Yeah I always assumed it was haunted because it was for sale for so long,” Lance scoffed, pausing to watch the movers for a moment. 

A young woman waved to the group from the garage. Lance waved back, a small smile on his face. She moved as if to come over to introduce herself but a shout from inside the house pulled her away. 

“I’m not one to judge based on looks, but they seem nice,” Hunk said as the group moved forward again. 

By the time the three of them reached the school, Lance could already tell it was going to be a long day. He could hear the soft murmuring before the first period even started. 

_Kogane. McClain. His uncle. Murdered. Serial Killer. Black Blade. Over a hundred._

Lance shivered again. Yeah, it was going to be a long day. 

***

 

“Allura you have to be kidding,” Keith said pacing her office. His black boots clicked against the hardwood floors. He paused in front of the door. The letters “Allura Altea, Social Worker,” were printed backward on the door. He had met with Allura at least once a month for the past three years and yet he had never been to her office before. His eyes scanned the office as if memorizing every detail. After a moment he paused to glare at the letters on the door before turning around to face her. 

She smiled weakly. Keith had been her first assignment. She was fresh out of college, apprenticing as a social worker for Coran, her father’s best friend. It had been a hard case from the beginning, and she had really drawn the short straw. It had taken a lot of unpaid overtime and jumping through hoops for Keith to finally open up. Slightly. But, at this point, there was a mutual respect, something that Allura prided herself on. 

Keith raised an eyebrow, his gaze hard as he waited for her to respond. 

She blinked slowly, “Sorry, Keith, what?” she said drawn from her thoughts by his cool gaze. 

“Did you really think this was a good idea?” Keith said, throwing himself into a chair with a dramatic huff. 

“It was the best I could do. You’re almost eighteen-” she started but Keith interrupted. 

“Yeah I get it, I’m almost out of the system, but-” Allura stopped him. 

“Keith, listen, it’s hard to find foster families as it is, your case it a little…” she paused, knowing she dug herself a hole, “...difficult,” she amended with a small smile. 

Keith’s eyes were cold. He leaned forward in the chair, all the unspoken words practically dripping down the walls like water being held back by a leaking dam. _It’s going to break. It wouldn’t take much._

Keith shook his head, clearing his thoughts. _Stay in control._

He smiled softly, it was forced and both of them knew it. “Sorry Allura, I know you’re doing your best. I just know the shit will hit the fan once the press gets word of this,” he said standing up. His legs felt tense, and he felt like bolting, it took all his control to stay standing in the office. 

“I know Keith, but you’ll be just a short drive from my office and the Wilsons are a perfect fit. I didn’t realize you had a connection to the town,” Allura said, choosing her words carefully. 

Keith shook his head, slowly inching toward the door, “No, seriously I get it, it’s hard when one hundred and one cities are off limits, in fact, I would say that Hawaii and Alaska would be the only places left. You know how dad hated to fly or cross borders. Too much security,” he said with a shrug. He knew he was rambling, but he was ready to leave. 

“And the Wilsons are super nice,” Keith added, his hand on the doorknob. “Haven’t once asked why I didn’t do anything to stop him,” Keith said, his voice dripping with venom.

_Oops. Too far. So much for that._

Keith closed the door before Allura could say anything. He used his last bit of self-control to keep from sprinting out of the office. Coran called out after him, but he was too deep in his own head to hear him. 

“Shit,” Keith mumbled hurrying over to his motorcycle resting in front of the office building. A police car sat behind the bike, a single officer standing next to his bike, pen in hand. 

A small voice in his head laughed softly, _Boy, now you see why I don’t like cops. They can’t stay out of your business._

Keith shuttered, it was the last voice a hundred and one people had heard. He knew he should tell Allura about it, but it wasn’t something he was willing to admit. 

_Hey Allura, my serial killer father must have brainwashed me so much that I hear his voice in my head. Oh yeah it’s getting worse too._

Keith shook his head again, running forward to his bike. Maybe he could sweet talk his way out of a parking ticket. A lesson straight from Jack himself. 

“Sir?” he called softly, the officer turning around slowly. 

Keith ran through the plan in his head. _Cue pity face._

“I’m sorry, I-” Keith started but stopped. His jaw dropped open slightly, hanging loosely as his gaze flickered up and down the officer. 

The officer’s gaze was nearly a mirror image. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost. 

_Yeah the ghost of Jack Kogane._ Keith cringed internally. 

“Kogane?” the officer said, his voice full of surprise. 

“Shirogane,” Keith said firmly, his eyes holding the officer’s gaze. 

Keith recovered faster than the officer. “Congrats, it seems you’re no longer a recruit. Full officer. You must have transferred into this town pretty recently then,” he said flatly, looking over his badge. 

“About time too,” Keith added, with a shrug. 

Shiro had no words, he stared at Keith a moment before attempting to speak. “Keith, I-” but he had nothing to finish with. 

Keith waited patiently, after a minute the officer regained his composure. “Keith let me buy you lunch,” Shiro said, pocketing the pen and ripping up the parking ticket.  


Keith stared at him for a moment. Keith prided himself on his ability to read people. Something his dad taught him, but nonetheless, it came in handy. Shiro was one of the most honest people he had ever met. Had they met in any other situation maybe Keith would consider him a friend, but instead he still wasn’t sure what to think. He was full of mixed emotion.

...And that’s how he found himself sitting in the passenger seat of a cop car driving to a burger joint. Keith spared a glance to the backseat. Three years ago he found himself being hauled off to the police station in the back of the squad car. Shiro sitting in the passenger seat and his mentor driving. He could still remember the day as vividly as ever. Shiro had been the one who found him. The house had been surrounded, his dad, who was always one step ahead, had finally lost. His father was running around the house, packing things. 

_Boy, they’re on their way. We need to get out of here. Go get my bag from the basement._

Keith had been doing just that, wondering what would happen if he never came up. Would his father come down to get him before leaving? Or would he just leave? To the day Keith was convinced the man would have no problem abandoning his only son. Jack valued his freedom way more than his family, that much was obvious from the beginning.  


The police had broken down the door and cornered Jack in his bedroom. Keith was still in the basement with the bag clutched to his chest. When he heard the pounding of boots on the steps he stayed frozen like a deer in the headlights. The bright flashlight beam pinned him to the concrete floor as the officer pointed the pistol at him. “Freeze!” the officer’s voice cut through Keith like a knife. “Drop the bag!”

Keith was sure that was the only moment in his life he felt fear. He still wasn’t sure what he was afraid of. His father? The police? His future? His past?  
The only thing he knew for certain is as Shiro had pat him down in the basement he felt was wave of relief wash over him. _Like blood down the drain._

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice pulled him back to reality again.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Keith asked, dragging his eyes back to the road in front.

“I asked if you’re okay?” 

“Oh. Yeah I’m fine. It’s just a lot to take in,” he paused. “I guess being here brings back a lot of memories,” Keith said, his own confession catching himself off guard.

Shiro nodded his head, unsure of the unspoken words. “I may be overstepping, but I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I have to know…” Shiro started and Keith groaned internally. 

_People want to know what kind of twisted things we have swirling around in our heads. What dark bloody mysteries we hold._

“...I guess I just want to know if there are hard feelings,” Shiro said, turning to look at Keith with full honesty and raw emotion. 

Keith was caught off guard. His mouth opened slightly as he stared at Shiro. He opened his mouth to reply but wasn’t sure what to say. 

_Was he mad at Shiro? Sure Shiro had been the one to put the last puzzle piece together to finally end Jack’s bloody reign. It had completely blown apart Keith’s life, but maybe for the better. The lessons were over. The brainwashing. The secrets. The fear._

Keith looked back up at Shiro. He wasn’t sure how much time had past since he asked the question, but he was pretty sure the silence couldn’t go on for much longer. 

“Shiro, I… no… I don’t hold anything against you. It’s just…,” Keith stopped. He didn’t think a single word could do it justice.

Shiro smiled softly, “hard,” Shiro finished for him. Keith returned the smile, “hard,” he confirmed with a nod. 

“Keith, I know I’m probably not the first person you want to go to for help or for someone to talk to, but I’m here for you,” Shiro said as they pulled up to the restaurant. 

Shiro handed him a business card. Keith glanced down at it for a moment, his eyebrow raised slightly. 

“That’s my cell. You can text me anytime,” Shiro said with a soft smile. 

Keith stared at the number a moment before slipping the card into his pocket. He smiled. The gesture genuine for the first time in a long time. 

***

By the time school was over Lance felt like his brain had been beaten with a bag of rocks. It hurt to think. The teachers droned on, but he didn’t miss the pitiful glances they gave him every once in a while. Did everyone in the damn town know what today was? _Probably._

The walk home from school was quiet. He had told Pidge and Hunk he needed some alone time. He was pretty sure that meant they were off at the store getting ice cream and on their way over, but he would take the quiet while he could.

He passed by the old brick house again. The young couple from earlier climbing out the car. The wife’s face lit up again, a smile so contagious that Lance felt himself smile in return. 

“Hi!” she practically shouted, stepping forward with a wave.

Lance stopped, holding his hand out in a greeting, “hello?” 

“My name is Leiah Wilson and this is my husband James. We just moved in,” she said, her voice soft and warm. 

“Well, Mr. Wilson, Mrs. Wilson, welcome to the neighborhood!” he said with a grin. He felt normal for the first time all day. 

Leiah laughed, “No, no, call me Leiah. It makes me feel old when you call me Mrs. Wilson,” she said with a smile. 

“Speaking of old,” James said, his arm slung around his wife’s shoulder loosely, “How old are you?” he asked.

Lance’s felt his eyes narrow in suspicion, but Leiah's laugh broke the thought. 

“Honey, that sounds creepy!” she turned to Lance before continuing, “He asked because our…” she paused as if unsure of what word to use, “...foster son seems about the same age. He’ll be starting at the high school down the street tomorrow,” she said with an award-winning smile. 

Lance smiled back, he couldn’t help it. “Well I’m a senior this year-” he started and Leiah’s clap cut him off. “So is he! You’ll have to keep an eye out for him. He’s pretty quiet, but he’s a good kid,” she said, her eyes determined and mouth firm. 

“Speaking of Keith, he should be home soon…” James said checking his watch. 

“Hopefully we didn’t already lose him,” James said with a smirk. Leiah frowned and smacked his arm, “Don’t say that!” she reprimanded.

The sound of the phone ringing from inside the house pulled their attention back. “Oh! Well, it was nice meeting you, Lance!” Leiah said running into the house. 

James laughed softly, giving Lance a final wave before following his wife into the house. 

Lance watched with a smile still on his face. He was struggling to understand how anyone could possibly be that nice. He shook his head and headed back towards his house, the smile slowly fading as he got closer and closer. The dark cloud was still hanging low over the house. 

A loud honk of a car horn caused Lance to jump nearly three feet up into the air, his hands out in fists. 

“Get in loser!” Pidge’s voice shouted from the passenger seat. 

Lance grinned. Okay, so maybe today didn’t have to be terrible. 

 

“So the Wilsons have a son?” Pidge asked, glancing up at Lance. 

Lance nodded, “Well foster son. Apparently, he’s our age,” Lance said with a shrug as they walked by the house the next morning. Lance felt normal again. It was amazing how much his friends could improve his mood. Yesterday after they picked him up he felt the hurt vanish like a puff of smoke in the wind. Sure he still had the thought of his uncle eating at his mind, but he felt like he was coming to terms with it. 

“Hope he’s hot,” Lance said absentmindedly as he pulled at the straps on his backpack. 

Pidge snorted but remained silent, “come on, we’re going to be late,” she added as she glanced at her phone. 

 

***

Keith exhaled slowly. So far so good. None of the teachers seemed concerned with the fact they had gained a new student. The first teacher had given him a sharp look, his old weathered face drawn in a tight frown as he spotted him. No doubt he read his name on the sheets, but thankfully he didn’t take attendance out loud. The joys of transferring in halfway through the year. 

By last period english his luck ran out. He had gotten away with the short introductions from people around him.

> _‘Oh are you a new student?’_  
>  No... I’ve been here the whole time. ‘Yeah, I just moved here’  
>  ‘Oh! My name is Student You Don’t Care About Number Six’  
>  ‘Nice to meet you, I’m Keith’, Just Keith. Last name? No sorry, I don’t have one. 

Keith was sitting in the back of the classroom. He had filtered in last minute so he could pick an empty desk without worrying about taking anyone’s seat. The class was louder than his others. He spotted a group of three walking towards him, but the teacher’s shouts over the noise forced them back to their seats. _Thank god._

“Alright, alright. Before we do anything, we have a new student!” the teacher shouted. All eyes turned to Keith.

_What is this? First grade? Just start teaching._

“Say hello to..” she trailed off looking at her roster for his name. She started speaking at the same time her brain processed the words, “Mr. Kogane.” 

Silence. The teacher’s eyes were wide as she looked from the paper up to him and back again. Students were equally quiet, only a few unsure of what was going on.

The teacher recovered quickly, “Why don’t you tell us something about yourself,” she said with a forced smile. 

_Oh yeah sure. My father is a serial killer. Black Blade. Harp Killer. Gentle Ripper. Jack W. Kogane. Maybe you’ve heard of him?_

“Umm,” was all he managed, his eyes wide as he thought hard.

_Shoot what do I do? Hi, I’m Keith and I know seventy-two different ways to dispose of a body. Yeah no._

“Hi, I’m Keith and I play the guitar,” he said, sinking lower in his seat. 

_The thing about us, boy, is that people don’t see us. Sure they can look at us, but they really don’t see us and we don’t see them. They ain’t real.  
Keith blinked slowly, shaking his father’s words from his head. _

_What did I say? I play the guitar? Pff total garbage._

By the time Keith recovered the teacher had moved on, she was droning on about Macbeth  
.  
Keith shuttered. What a terribly appropriate play to be talking about right now. 

_‘Let not light see my black and deep desires.’_


	2. Chapter 2

When the bell rang it hit Keith like a gunshot. He was deep in thought, and the sound of the bell made him jump. He glanced around the room, but the only set of eyes on him were big brown eyes behind large glasses. The expression was blank. A look that competed with his own. The girl frowned and turned back to her friends, her short brown hair bobbing as she turned. 

“Hey Lance, come on,” a larger kid whispered. He was twice the height of the girl with the glasses, her face laced with worry. 

_What do you think I’m going to snap and kill you? Are you worried?_

His dad’s voice echoed in his ears. He felt himself shudder, his own voice whispering a reply. I know I’m worried. The rational part of his brain whispered. Or maybe it wasn't rational. He could never tell. 

Keith looked up again, pulling his backpack up from the floor. He turned to leave and nearly crashed into a tall lanky kid. His eyes were huge. Like oceans. Brimming with confusion, interest and a bit of hurt. 

Keith waited. He was never sure what the proper thing to do was. Do I say something or does he?

“Hey, I just wanted to introduce myself,” the kid said. _Lance right? Isn’t that what the big guy said?_

The boy gripped his hand in a firm handshake before speaking, “the name’s Lance McClain-” Lace started. 

Keith froze. 

_McClain. Cesar McClain. Forty-seven. Husband. Three kids. Killed four years ago, yesterday. Strangled. Gutted. Dumped in a field outside of town. Victim sixty-seven._

Keith pulled his hand back like Lance had burned him. His eyes were wide, mouth open slightly. He backed up slightly, he could hear the muttering of his father’s voice starting in the back of his head, slowly gaining volume until it overpowered every rational thought. 

_...he struggled boy. He struggled until he knew I was in control. Then he begged. He begged for his family. He said they needed him. His wife needed him. His kids needed him. His brother needed him. His nieces and nephews needed him. You know what I said? I laughed. I told him no one needed him._

Keith felt reality punch him in the stomach as he lurched back into the real world. He was staring into Lance’s eyes but not seeing. He shook his head, backing up farther.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you,” Keith said, rushing from the room, leaving Lance standing with an outstretched hand. 

***

“Well that answers that one,” Pidge said looking up from her laptop. 

Lance chewed his lip, but remained silent, staring into his cup.

Hunk frowned. “Yeah well after Keith’s reaction I don’t think there was any doubt in the first place,” he said.

Pidge shook her head, “There are a shit ton of articles about his dad, but hardly any on him. Not a single public interview. The only pictures of him are of him with the police,” she said but trailed off, eyes wide. 

“Wait, this is crazy,” she turned her laptop around. A picture of Jack W. Kogane smiling widely, looking completely normal. His hand was resting loosely on a young boy’s shoulder. The kid had black hair falling in his face, framing cool gray eyes. A soft smile on his face as he looked at the camera.

Lance stared at the photo and felt… strange. Seeing his uncle’s killer smiling like a proud dad, his son looking like a mini version of him. He felt the flash of anger he felt every time someone mentioned Jack Kogane, but seeing Keith, he felt something else. Anger? No. More like pity. 

Pidge spun the computer back around. “All of these articles about him are terrible. There isn’t a ton, it seems he was kept mostly out of the spotlight. I guess having a serial killer fathers helps… but nothing on the internet is hidden from me... Oh god,” Pidge said with a pause. 

“What?” Lance asked, his eyes pleading. 

“There is some terrible stuff. Some of the victim’s families are calling for him to be arrested too. There are a bunch of terrible threats too. He was just a kid,” Pidge said with a frown. 

Hunk frowned as well, “Well, Jack Kogane was arrested like what? Three years ago? He would probably be like fourteen then. That’s not exactly a kid,” Hunk said with a frown. 

“Well, we don’t know that he knew anything about what was going on,” Lance offered.

Pidge frowned. “We do actually. The sparse articles all seem to confirm that Jack Kogane shared a lot of stuff with Keith…” Pidge started but spotted Lance’s face. “But! It also says he helped investigators organize everything after the fact. Filled them in on details they missed,” Pidge said.

Lance was quiet for a moment. He felt so conflicted. He knew he should feel some sort of anger towards Keith. The kid of his uncle’s murder. The one person that could have stopped it. Stopped it all. For all the anger and fear he felt there were equal amounts of pity and concern towards Keith. 

“That poor kid,” Lance finally said, making both Hunk and Pidge raise their eyebrows in surprise. “I can only imagine the trauma that kid went through,” Lance added.

“That’s…” Pidge started, “that’s really mature of you,” she finally said, closing her laptop with a click. 

“I don’t know. I’ve held onto it for so long. Seeing Keith… It almost humanizes the whole thing. I used to be so angry about it, but seeing the fear in Keith’s eyes. It was… strange. Like I guess I finally realized that I’m not the only person that Jack Kogane hurt,” Lance said. 

He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride at his words. Maybe it was finally a step to moving on. 

 

His dad stared at him for a moment, mouth open in shock. A red spread across his face like a kettle boiling over on the stove.

“That bastard!” his dad yelled, his fist slamming down on the kitchen table. The house seemed to shake with the movement. A bottle tipped over. His younger siblings retreated upstairs. 

“Dad, it’s not like it’s Jack Kogane himself,” Lance said softly. Apparently, news travels fast. Well, news like this. The fact that Jack Kogane’s only son moved in town, a town that his father had murdered two citizens, was back at the house before Lance was.

“He damn might as well be!” his dad shouted. Lance cringed. He had never seen his dad so worked up about something like this.

_Not like something like this had ever happened before._

“Dad, he’s not the same person,” Lance offered meekly. 

“Lance. That man killed my brother!” 

_No. His dad killed your brother. Not him... Okay, Okay. Not important._

“Just stay away from him,” his dad snapped, turning from Lance with a hand pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Roger that,” Lance said fleeing the kitchen. 

***

Keith stood in the kitchen, his gaze traveling out the window. 

“Twenty-five,” he said, turning to Leiah. 

Leiah frowned. “Twenty-five what?” she asked softly, her gaze falling on Keith.

Keith slowly turned from the window to face Leiah. “Twenty-five cars that have driven past in the last hour,” he said his arms folded across his chest. 

“Honey, that doesn't mean anything,” she said softly.

Keith shook his head, “Mrs. Wilson-” he stopped as she frowned, “Leiah,” he amended, “They all slow down or stop in front of the house and stare,” he said glancing back at the window as a car did just that. 

“I’m sorry,” Keith said. 

Leiah frowned again, “for what?” she asked. 

Keith shook his head, “I can’t imagine how much grief you’re getting,” Keith said. He continued before she could respond. He dropped his voice into a mocking tone, “‘Oh... you’re that lady who is fostering that Kogane kid. God bless. I hope he doesn't kill you in your sleep,’” Keith said leaning on the counter, gazing out the window as a man walked by, eyes falling on the house as he walked. 

Keith nearly jumped as Leiah came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. 

_You have to lure them in. Show weakness. Let them think you are weak. Let them think you need their help._

Keith held his breath until she released him. He smiled weakly, but he doubted he convinced her. 

“Listen, Keith,” she said, her voice firm. And honest. “I’m not stupid. We knew what we were getting into when we took you in. We knew it wouldn’t be easy. And we know you are struggling with everything,” she paused, unsure how far to push. “We know you have nightmares. You can come to us. You don’t have to go through everything alone,” she said, her eyes soft. 

Keith froze. He was never very good with emotions. Sure dad had taught him how to fake it pretty well, but he was caught off guard by the raw emotion. He swallowed hard, eyes wide as he stared at her. 

“Thank you, Leiah,” he said softly. 

She smiled, the smile just touching her eyes, “And Keith?” she said.

He turned and looked at her, feeling a hint of nervous energy at all the emotions buzzing around the room like flies on carrion. 

“Even if you don’t come to us, you need to go to someone. It’s not healthy to keep it all to yourself,” she said.

Keith nodded his head as he walked from the kitchen and out the back door. 

He had been through hours of therapy, but dealing with serial killer’s children wasn’t exactly where anyone specialized. He had shared some of his childhood with them, but it was never natural. It was forced and he felt himself twisting the truth. To the day Keith didn’t know why he protected his dad like that. He always made it seem like it wasn’t as bad as it really was. Sure his dad had never physically abused him, but instead of learning to ride a bike he learned how easy it was to carve a human.   
Keith shivered. Too easy.

Keith looked up, he was so engrossed in his own thoughts he didn’t realize how far he had gone. He was standing in the middle of a park, the playground completely empty, the swings swaying softly in the wind. 

_Victim fifty-two was killed in a park just like this in Kansas. Jade Esra. Twenty-three. Left lying in the middle of the playground, eyes cut out. A family found her the next morning._  
“Stop!” Keith shouted, leaning back into a tree. He slid down the tree until he sat in the mulch, his hands clamped over his ears. 

“Hey, Keith,” a voice pulled Keith from the dark corners of his head. 

He picked his head up, springing to his feet, already backing up. 

Shiro held his hand out as if he was going to grab Keith if he tried to run. Keith glanced at him, he was out of uniform in jeans and a light jacket. His face was laced with concern. 

Keith exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

He suddenly felt the weight of the business card Shiro had given him in his jacket pocket. 

“Are you okay?” Shiro asked. 

Keith snorted softly. _Déjà vu._

“I’m fine,” he said, turning to walk away.

Shiro laughed bitterly, “Walk with me Keith,” Shiro said. His voice was hard. It wasn’t an offer, it was a command. 

Keith fell into step with Shiro, his stride quickening to keep up.

They walked in silence. Keith was surprised to find it a comfortable quiet. 

_But then again, anything is better than questions._

Shiro finally broke the quiet, having let it stretch on for nearly three blocks. “Keith, I’m not a therapist,”

_Oh god. Not this._

Shiro raised a hand as if sensing Keith’s resentment, “No, hear me out. I remember the first time I saw one of his crime scenes,”

_His._ They both knew who that was. 

“I couldn’t sleep for weeks. I felt so responsible. The longer it took to figure it out, the more bodies dropped-”

“Shiro, you were only a recruit. If they hadn’t been so short-handed I don’t think you would have been allowed on the case in the first place. You can’t blame yourself for that,” Keith said.

Shiro grinned, the smile reminding Keith of a wolf. “Exactly. And you can’t blame yourself for everything. I know what’s happening. Being back in the same town that he killed two people is bringing everything up again. You blame yourself for everything. It’s not your fault,” Shiro said. 

Keith didn’t reply. He didn’t see a point. He had heard the speech a million times from a million different people. 

A moment of silence stretched between them before Keith finally responded.

“Listen, Shiro. Thank you, but I don’t need your help,” Keith said, turning to head back. Shiro grabbed his arm. 

“Keith, listen. Normally I would believe you, but coming from a boy who just shouted for a tree to stop…”

_Ouch._

“I’m dealing with it,” Keith said with a frown.

***

Lance trudged through the day. He felt a flicker of dread at the thought of english. 

_Sure it was my favorite class until a serial killer’s son ruined that._

“Lance, I think this is unhealthy for you,” Pidge said, drumming her fingers on the table. 

“Pidge, it’s been a week. I’m fine. I actually think it’s helping,” he paused a smirk coming onto his face, “it’s weird to have someone fear me as much as he does,” Lance said with an eye roll. 

“He spends the entire class on the edge of his seat, like he’s ready to bolt. He acts like _you’re_ going to kill _him_ ,” Hunk said.

Pidge shrugged, “Again, he probably thinks that’s a possibility. You guys didn’t read those blogs. There are people that want to see him dead,” Pidge said. 

“My dad included,” Lance said looking up across the cafeteria. 

The school’s therapist was marching across the cafeteria, her hands moving in wide arcs along pace with her mouth. _Yap Yap Yap._ Lance rolled his eyes. She had talked to Lance a lot over the past three years, and he pitied anyone who had to talk to her. She sought out anyone with issues so she could try out the things she learned in college. Lance doubted that anyone ever actually opened up for her. He snorted as Keith trailed behind her. 

_Yep still pity anyone who has to talk to her._

 

The bell rang and Lance was on his feet in a heartbeat. A moment ago he decided he would stick to the theme of ignoring Keith, but his legs must not have gotten the memo. 

Keith was trying to pack his backpack before Lance could reach him. 

_Not fast enough._

“Hey Keith-”

“Listen, I really can’t help you-”

“No, that’s not-”

“No, I don’t know his last words. No, I don’t know why him. No, I don’t have anything to tell you. I’m sorry it happened. Really I am. I’m sorry I didn’t do anything,” Keith said, his eyes intent on packing his bag. His hands were a flurry, fumbling with his stuff as he tried to leave.

Lance swallowed. He didn’t know what he wanted, but he knew it wasn’t anything Keith had said. “That’s not it,” Lance said. Keith swung his backpack onto his back and turned to flee, but Lance caught the other strap, yanking him back. 

“Do you want to go get pizza? Hunk, Pidge and I were going to go to this pizza place downtown…” Lance trailed off looking into Keith’s eyes. 

_I wonder if these are the last eyes that my uncle saw before he died. No, don’t go there._

Keith stared at Lance for a minute. He could read people easily, and Lance was an open book. The hurt was there, yes, but something else too. _Forgiveness._

Keith felt his gaze travel to the two friends standing by the door. They were looking at Lance with what Keith could only describe as a proud mother look. 

“Well?” Lance asked, a genuine smile on his face. 

Keith realized the moment had stretched on for far too long. He shook his head slowly, “Sorry, I have-” 

“Nope, no you don’t,” Lance said grabbing his wrist and dragging him from the room. 

“Wait, what?” Keith fumbled after him, thrown completely off guard by his… lack of fear? 

“I suspect you’re lying, so I’m making you come. Don’t make me call Mrs. Wilson. Leiah loves me,” Lance said yanking him towards his locker to grab his jacket. 

Keith glanced behind him, locking eyes with Pidge and Hunk. The two just shrugged, Pidge giving Keith an encouraging thumbs up. 

He turned back to Lance, “You’re a terrible liar. One, you don’t have Leiah’s number and two, she loves everyone,” Keith said, digging his heels in. 

Lance grinned, “Ya caught me,” he said, giving Keith another tug. 

“Seriously man, resistance is futile. How do you think we became friends with him?” Hunk said with a smirk. 

Lance scowled at Hunk as he pulled his jacket on, “Rude,” he snorted, turning back to Keith. 

Keith was staring at Lance like he was seeing a ghost. 

_The ghost of Cesar McClain._

Lance returned the stare for a moment before realizing that Keith wasn’t staring at him but through him. 

_...he struggled boy. He struggled until he knew I was in control. Then he begged. He begged for his family. He said they needed him. His wife needed him. His kids needed him. His brother needed him. His nieces and nephews needed him. You know what I said? I laughed. I told him no one needed him._

Keith blinded quickly, clearing his head. He cursed internally. He had hoped that it was just some sick daydream. That maybe he wasn’t standing next to Lance.   
_Nope, no such luck._

“Come on, we need to get our normal table,” Lance said, taking up Keith’s wrist again. 

 

Keith felt like he was in the twilight zone. The next thing he knew he was in Hunk’s car. 

_Don’t ever get caught off guard. Never let people lure you into a false sense of security. There is no such thing as security._

_Yeah maybe they want to kill you for revenge. No, Keith, no one thinks about murder except you._

“What kind of pizza do you like?” Pidge asked, turning to Keith from where she sat next to him in the backseat. 

Keith stared at her a moment. 

_Answer the damn question. It’s not that hard!_

“Why are you doing this?”

_Oh come on!_

Pidge frowned, “You can take this one, Lance,” Pidge said with a smirk. 

Lance was glad for his spot in the passenger seat. He didn’t have to actually look at him when he answered. If he answered. Was ignoring him an option? No already tried that. See how well that worked.

Lance felt his lips moving before his brain had finished thinking. “I know what it’s like. Hearing all the whispers. People talk. Sure they try to be nice about it. They wait until they think you’re out of earshot, or they whisper while looking at someone else. Courteous. I can only imagine how much worse it is for you. It’s old news about my family. I get pity. You get hate,” Lance said, his eyes glancing in the rearview mirror to meet Keith's. 

Keith’s face was unreadable. 

_Can I jump out of a moving vehicle?_

“Listen, Lance. You don’t have to do this. I get it. You’re trying to find closure, but it’s not going to come through me,” Keith said with a flat voice. 

Lance seemed to pause as if he never considered what he was doing. 

“I’m not after closure,” Lance started. 

_Lies._

“I’m just after pizza,” Lance said, his tone cheerful and a smirk on his face.


End file.
